


To Fly, To Serve

by Susanwiththescythe



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Airplane Sex, Ass Play, Bathroom Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Mile High Club, One Shot, Public Sex, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susanwiththescythe/pseuds/Susanwiththescythe
Summary: Jensen is a slut and flight attendant, whose colleague Misha lets him in on a little secret regarding one of the men's bathrooms at Heathrow T5. Jared is the business class flyer who makes use of the, uh, facilities.





	To Fly, To Serve

**Author's Note:**

> Not even remotely real, and with many, many apologies to any actual flight attendants who might stumble across this. I did some research, but can't claim exhaustive verisimilitude. This is a work of fiction, not written for profit.
> 
> After a recent con, my partner in crime and I were having a jokey conversation about "the worst ever fic prompts EVAH" and she said "Jensen Ackles and the airport bathroom glory hole". After going "eeewwwwwww!!!" for a good several minutes and cursing her evilness, I realised I was having plotbunnies and would have to actually write the damn thing. And by the time I remembered that the British Airways motto is "To Fly, To Serve", honestly I was well on my way to hell in a handcart.
> 
> She also gave me three words/phrases to try to fit in in the course of the fic. I shall list them at the end.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Jensen loves being a flight attendant. The free travel to far flung locations, the beauty of seeing the world from above every single day, the quick fucks in enclosed spaces. He and Misha get up to all sorts of things in between, and sometimes on, shifts. They're not _together_ together but if it hadn't been for Misha, he'd never have found out about the glory hole in one of the men's bathrooms at Heathrow T5. He's a little hazy on how exactly Misha discovered it, but apparently, it's an open secret among a select group of business class frequent flyers.  
  
A lot of places have them. Those bathrooms that, by some quirk of design, never get the traffic that restrooms in other parts of the building see. Apart from the urinals, this one only has three stalls, and one of those is marked staff only. Of course, as a flight attendant regularly working out of Heathrow, Jensen's special key for such things fits.  
  
The first time Jensen sucked a passenger off through the formica-covered plywood, he came in his briefs in under a minute.

Later, when he'd fucked Misha in an aeroplane toilet somewhere over the Pacific, while everyone in business class was sleeping , he'd had to keep his hand clamped firmly over the other man's mouth while describing how it had gone down. Misha gets loud when he's really turned on.  
  
Jensen usually tries to visit the secluded bathroom at least once a week, sometimes with only 20 minutes to go before he's due on shift. He gets off on the rush of it, takes pride in how quickly he can make them come, these anonymous cocks that present themselves. It's just another way to be of service.  
  
Because Jensen loves his job. He likes to put a smile on people's faces, likes to help solve problems, make people feel better. Even when you're paying for all the perks, air travel is not exactly most people's favourite way to spend their time. Jensen's here to help with that. Lost luggage? You got it. Child's favourite toy left behind in the business lounge? Not a problem, we'll courier it to your destination. And he knows he's pretty. It's not usually the done thing, but he gets a lot more tips than your average when he works business class. Of course, he always refuses them, but some fares just won't be told no. Not that he's complaining. The folks who fly up front have cash to spare.  
  
He and Misha sometimes have a little competition when they're on a shift together, a sort of Olympics in flirting with the fares to see who can get the most gifts that _aren't_ cash. Jensen usually wins, but they always divvy up the spoils, whether it's luxury chocolates or silk handkerchiefs. That's what friends-with-benefits are for. One of their former regulars had been bewitched by Misha's blue eyes and given him a set of handkerchiefs to go with them.  
  
Of course, the downside is having to deal with weapons-grade A-holes. The people who look down on those who work in the service industry. Jensen's served them his cum in their coffee with cream or his urine in their white wine more times than he can count. Of course Misha's in on it, and no one's ever found them out. They both keep little flasks ready to add to the drinks of any deserving passengers during food service. That’s how they play it at the top end of the annoyance scale. Unfortunately, there’s little they can do about the people who do things like leave their used chewing gum behind in the seat pockets without so much as putting it in a disposable plastic sandwich bag.  
  
It's before a flight to Austin one fine spring day that he has one of his best bathroom encounters to date. He and Misha both have a few days off when they land and he's looking forward to hitting the town, and the two of them tag-teaming as many willing victims as they can find. He's really hoping this session in the bathroom will work as a warm-up for the main event.  
  
He's only been on his knees waiting a couple of minutes when he hears the lock on the adjoining stall door slide shut. Of course, sometimes no one ever shows before he really _has_ to report for duty, and when that happens, he just makes sure he and Misha go at it extra hard next time they have the opportunity. But this time, he's already kicking his lips in anticipation.  
  
There's a soft sound which he deciphers as the other man taking off his jacket and hanging it on the peg. He's expecting it to be followed by the slither of leather and the clink of a belt buckle, but instead there's just silence.  
  
Jensen's aware his breathing has speeded up. This is new, he doesn't know what's coming next and he's loving the uncertainty.  
  
Then the other guy speaks. He fucking speaks. They never normally say a word.  
  
"Hey there darlin'."  
  
That voice. It reminds Jensen of home. Sun-drenched vowels and lazily drawled rs slower than a hungover Sunday morning.  
  
He's not normally one to wax lyrical over shit like that, but this stranger has him all kinds of riled up with just those three words and they've not even started yet.  
  
"Dunno if you can tell, but it's my first time here."  
  
It's all Jensen can do not to giggle hysterically at that. No fucking shit, Sherlock. But he keeps it together.  
  
"I'm normally a bit more careful about where I stick my dick, but when I heard about this place, well, I just had to see if it was real. Sadly sweetheart, I don't think it'll fit."  
  
Well that's a downer. But if the guy is telling the truth then fuuuuuck.  
  
"So why don't you get my fingers nice 'n' wet and then gimme your hole to play with?"  
  
The guy is sliding two fingers through the hole and into Jensen's mouth as he speaks, and Christ of these are how big his hands are then Jensen prays to the Lord above that the dick that goes with them is of a proportionate size. Not that he'll get to find out of course, but a man can dream.  
  
The guy has his index and middle finger through the hole in the partition and Jensen takes them into his mouth as best as he can, sucking for all he's worth, letting his teeth graze gently over the spit-soaked skin.  
  
The stranger isn't rough, but he is firm, the pads of both fingers pressing up against the roof of Jensen's mouth, hooking behind his teeth and pulling him forward. Jensen's face is flush to the wall, lips pressed around the edge of the hole, his mouth wide open and drooling. He feels gloriously degraded like this. Then the stranger spreads his fingers in a v, the pull forward less insistent now, and presses gently upwards, the tips of each finger between Jensen's back teeth.  
  
"You can bite me sugar, but be gentle yeah? I'm gonna pull them out slowly and I don't wanna bleed."  
  
There's a hint of a chuckle in the stranger's voice, but also a slight breathlessness that Jensen can more than sympathise with.  
  
He bites down on the long, powerful fingers in his mouth, feeling the tenderness of the pads against his teeth, relishing the grateful moan that reaches him from the other stall. Keeping his head steady, he lets up enough so the guy can slide his fingers out, but still gives him a little resistance, sucking at the tender skin as the guy pulls his fingers away.  
  
Before Jensen can process what's happening, the man's thumb is in his mouth.  
  
"Suck it like it's my dick."  
  
Being fucked in the mouth by a guy's fingers is not something Jensen has done much of before, but he figures enthusiasm trumps experience every time and really goes to town. He licks the tip of the stranger's thumb, points and swirls his tongue around it before forming and airtight seal with his lips and working his mouth up and down the length of it. And it may not be a dick, but when the guy decides to press down on the back of Jensen's tongue, it's all he can do not to choke on it anyway.  
  
"Sorry darlin'." He sounds even closer to losing it than before. "I just had to see if you could take it, but lemme make it worth your while. Turn around for me."  
  
He's not been paying much attention to his own arousal up to this point, too caught up in the newness of what's going on but as he gets to his feet he realises he's painfully hard in his pants. He drops his trousers and then his briefs, before turning to face the opposite wall. A couple of seconds of hit and miss follow as he tries to line himself up properly.

"I see you sugar. Just pull your cheeks apart for me. Get as close as you can."  
  
It's not an order, but Jensen has no desire to refuse and as he jams his crack as close to the wall as he can get, he feels a cool breath over his hole through the stall partition.  
  
No way, no fucking way.  
  
When it touches him, the tongue is mostly a tease, little licks and swipes that leave him whimpering for more, but the idea that the stranger is even willing to try gets to Jensen on a whole new level. Then finally, blessedly, he feels one finger breach him, sending his arousal skyrocketing. He's tight, almost dry, it's only spit and mutual determination making this happen, but God, Jensen _wants_ it.  
  
He breathes out, forcing himself to relax, hears the pleased sigh of the guy on the other side of the wall.  
  
"That's it, let me in..."  
  
There's the sound of him spitting, Jensen feels like absolute filth at that, loves it, then the tip of a second finger is coaxing its way inside him.  
  
It's a stretch, but it feels so good. The man's spreading his fingers apart, twisting, thrusting, teasing and then he brushes that spot inside that makes Jensen see stars and fly. He lets out a moan.  
  
"Oh did I get it right there?"  
  
The stranger crooks his fingers again and Jensen gasps. He struggles a bit with his uniform slacks and gets a good grip on his dick.  
  
"You touching yourself baby?"  
  
Jensen moans an affirmative.  
  
"So hot. Let's get you there."  
  
Jensen is 100% on board with that. The guy is running his mouth off now with how he bets this hole takes it like a champ, how he's a dirty slut but so hot with it, the pressure of his fingers driving Jensen ever closer until finally, his own hand and the fingers inside him touch him in just the right way and he loses it on a moan, splattering his release all over the opposite wall.  
  
There's a contented sigh from the other stall.  
  
"Thanks sugar," the stranger says. "You have a good flight now."  
  
There's the creak of a door, the soft whush of a tap as the man cleans his hands, and then in a rush of clipped footsteps, he's gone.  
  
Once Jensen's pulled himself together enough to leave the cubicle, and done the best he can with toilet paper with the mess on the wall, he comes out of the cubicle to find Lynette, the only toilet attendant he's ever seen in this particular bathroom. She's polishing the taps with a soft cloth.  
  
Jensen makes eye contact and then looks away, slightly embarrassed. Lynette knows how it is, of course she does, but still. She raises one eyebrow at him in a wordless inquiry.  
  
"Uh... You might need a sponge for the wall in the end one... Sorry... Gotta run!"  
  
~~~  
  
Misha can tell something's up with him as soon as their shift starts.  
  
"Someone get you off Jen?"  
  
Damn the man, he _always_ knows.  
  
"How do you _do_ that?"  
  
"Oh you know, the glow in your cheeks, the way your hair gets extra spikey, the way you limp slightly..."  
  
Jensen swats him across the backs of his thighs with a towel.  
  
"Mmm... Do that again... Now where was I?"  
  
Before Misha can keep listing Jensen's obvious symptoms of recent fucked-outness, it deteriorates into a full-on wrestling match in the galley of the Dreamliner 787-9 they'll soon be receiving passengers on.  
  
Misha eventually cries uncle and then it's back to preparing for the long-haul to Austin.  
  
They're both working up front today, in the premium cabin, so just eight fares to look after between them.  
  
Looking at the passenger manifest, Jensen sees he has three women and just one man on his side of the cabin. A Jared Something-Unpronounceable. He doesn't recognise the name, so not a regular, but maybe today will be the first trip of many. All the women have flown with him before, they're all good fun, especially Danneel Harris. He starts to look forward to his shift.  
  
Forty minutes later, with boarding complete and wheels up, Jensen starts his first pass around his charges. He gets to the new passenger last, as he's seated at the back of the cabin.  
  
"Can I get you anything to drink sir?"  
  
"Well sure, what wines do you have?"  
  
Jensen thanks whatever God exists up here in the heavens with them that his professional autopilot kicks in, because hot damn, he recognises that voice. It helped talk him to completion not one hour ago. Those long and strong fingers the man is using to turn over the pages of the wine list were in his mouth and then his ass and it's all Jensen can do not to start drooling.  
  
He very carefully looks slightly to the left of the man's face in order to appear attentive without making actual eye contact, because if he does meet his gaze he's not exactly sure what will happen next.  
  
The fare makes his selection and Jensen manages to force out a "Coming right up," before he makes a fool of himself.  
  
He returns with the man's wine and a few snacks and sets them down on his table.  
  
The approach to the seat gives him a chance to look at the guy properly. He'd been too caught up in recent sense memories to fully appreciate what he was seeing before, but this fare is gorgeous. Tall, tanned, well-muscled, with wavy brown hair Jensen would just love to run his fingers through. This is going to be a long long-haul.  
  
"Here you are Mr Pada-"  
  
"Please, call me Jared."  
  
He's taking the wine from Jensen's hand before he's properly set it down, brushing Jensen's fingers with his own and Jensen can't help but let out a small moan which he hastily turns into a cough.  
  
Thankfully, Mr "Call-Me-Jared" doesn't appear to notice.  
  
~~~  
  
Jensen has other passengers to attend to, he can't spend the entirety of the trip to Austin waiting on Jared Padalecki hand and foot, much as he might like to. Besides, it's not like the man even knows who Jensen is. That's part of the sacred trust of the bathroom glory hole. No one ever _says_ anything. Statistically, it's highly likely that Jensen has sucked the cock of a guy he's served a three-course meal to a few hours later, but the whole point was that neither of them would ever _know_.  
  
Jared Padalecki had to go and ruin all that by _talking_ to him and Jensen's finding it hard to focus. He doesn't think the fares he's tending to notice, but Misha certainly does.  
  
"Seriously, what _is_ up with you Jen?"  
  
They're getting ready for the first meal service, checking food, supplies of lemon-scented wetwipes, the usual, but Jensen's not really paying attention.  
  
"Huh... What?"  
  
Misha shoots him a pointed look.  
  
Jensen looks around to check no one else is in earshot. There are toilets near where they're currently working after all.  
  
"He's here!" He whispers conspiratorially.  
  
"Who?" Misha's confused.  
  
"I went to... You know! The bathroom! There was this guy... And he's on this flight!"  
  
Misha's eyes go wide at that. "How do you know?"  
  
"Because he ran his mouth off!"  
  
The look his friend gives him is positively evil. "Oh really? So you're sure it's him?"  
  
"Yes! And he's hot. Like, insanely hot..."  
  
Jensen's almost drooling again just thinking about it.  
  
"I’ll make sure I check him out, but I don't see how that's a problem."  
  
"You're not the one who has to serve him!"  
  
"But surely you've already done that? Hey!"  
  
Misha breaks off indignantly when Jensen gets him in a headlock, and then they really _do_ have to focus on getting ready for the meal service or they'll be late.  
  
Meal service ends up being a form of slow torture for Jensen. His fare- "Jared, please," keeps finding all manner of excuses to touch him, reaching up to take dishes before Jensen can set them down, summoning Jensen back with a light touch to his arm for a supposedly forgotten request, standing up and squeezing past him completely unnecessarily on his way to the toilet.  
  
Jensen's leaning forward talking to Danneel Harris when he feels a very firm, decidedly very masculine form brushing past him.  
  
It's harassment and he's loving every second of it.  
  
Unfortunately, it's also making it very hard for him to do his job.

He doesn't know if somehow, something has given him away and Jared recognises him, or whether he just thinks Jensen's hot, but whatever it is, he'll indulge in this little flirtation for all he's worth.  
  
Finally, with great difficulty, he makes it through the evening and then it's time for lights out and sleeping.  
  
Jensen works his way back towards Jared's seat. For the price they're paying the fares in this cabin don't quite have their own rooms, but once all the stalls are erected and the seats are flattened out, they get a helluva lot more privacy than anyone in economy.  
  
When he gets to Jared's seat, the man in question is more than ready to help Jensen assemble his sleeping quarters. He's still sneaking little touches wherever he can, but they're less urgent, more lingering, starting a slow burn in Jensen's blood on top of the little bolts of heat he's been getting from Jared all flight.  
  
Then everything just about catches fire when Jared whispers in his ear, "It was you in the bathroom wasn't it sugar?  
  
There's no point in denying it, and Jared's breath against his ear, the almost-touch of his lips has Jensen craving so much more.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well aren't you something fine. What's your name?"  
  
He doesn't do this. He shouldn't do this. Anonymous dicks in bathrooms and fooling around with Misha at five thousand feet is one thing. This is… a horrifically, terribly disastrous idea.  
  
“Jensen.”

Jared’s pulling back as he speaks so they can make eye contact.

“Well hello Jensen, it’s nice to put a name to a…”  
  
He leaves the sentence hanging, a playful twinkle in his eyes, and Jensen can’t help but grin despite how corny it is.  
  
“How did you know it was me?”  
  
Jared looks kinda, sorta, adorably guilty. Damn him. “I hung back to see who left after me… I had to know.”  
  
“That is so _not_ how this is supposed to work!” Whispering when furious really does make it lose most of the sting Jensen realises.

Jared leans forward again so he can whisper in Jensen’s ear, “I know. And I’m sorry. What do you say I make it up to you? How’d you feel about that?”  
  
Jensen feels a ripple of heat pass through him at Jared’s words. It’s completely crazy, but Lord he _wants_ it.

“We shouldn’t…” He whispers back. He is still a professional after all.

“But you want to…” There’s the vaguest hint of a question in there, as if Jared would stop if Jensen would only ask, but he knows he’s not going to. Jared’s fingers are tracing their way gently over Jensen’s groin and he can feel his cock filling, knows he’s leaning into that featherlight touch. Their heads are pressed close together, mouths to ears so that no one else can hear what’s happening.

Jensen sucks Jared’s earlobe into his mouth and gives it a little nip. Not saying yes with words, but Jared gets the message. He drops down to the seat/bed/whatever and looks up at Jensen with heat in his eyes.

“Why don’t I give you what you wanted to give me earlier?”  
  
Jensen’s brain is only processing at half-speed so he’s only just caught on to the fact that Jared’s talking about a blow job when he hears him say,  
  
“And to make it fair, because last time you couldn’t see me, this time…”  
  
His ridiculously hot fare is reaching around on his seat and comes back with the airline regulation-issue sleep mask. It’s black. And before Jensen can fully digest what he’s looking at, Jared’s slipped it on, tucked the straps under his shaggy hair, and with hands that fumble only a little, he’s unzipping Jensen’s uniform.

Jensen already knew Jared’s hands were big, but when he feels those long, capable fingers wrapped around his dick, gripping him just right, it’s all he can do not to scream. He feels ridiculously vulnerable, the cool, processed air of the cabin making the exposed skin of his cock tingle. Jared might not be able to see him right now, but anyone else could. The gentle sounds of seven other people sleep-breathing are not much reassurance.

And then Jensen has to try even harder to keep quiet because Jared wraps his lips around the head of Jensen’s dick and starts to draw him into his mouth. He’s at just the right height that Jensen doesn’t need to move, just enjoy the feel of Jared’s lips dragging sweet torture-slow over his skin, relish the slip and slide of his fingers lower down as he works Jensen closer and closer to the edge.

He risks glancing down at the obscene show Jared is putting on, hollowing his cheeks, arching his neck to better take Jensen in. And for all that Jared’s the one blindfolded, Jensen feels very far from in control of the situation. He doesn’t dare touch the other man, is trying to keep as still and quiet as possible, doesn’t know what’s going to happen and figures their best chance of getting away with this is to let Jared take it wherever he wants.  
  
Time is fluid right now, Jensen feels he must have been here for eternity with his cock out and one of the hottest fares he’s ever seen sucking him off like his life depends on it, but realistically he knows it can only have been a couple of minutes. In the name of keeping quiet, Jared is giving him the most thorough, and above all, _slowest_ blowjob in history and Jensen feels like he’s dying.

Strung out, nerves jangling, with Jared’s tongue a fluttering tease on the underside of his dick, Jensen comes, practically biting his own forearm off in a bid to stay silent. Jared swallows it all down, keeping up the pressure as Jensen pulses inside his throat, his hands on Jensen’s hips the only thing keeping him upright as his orgasm takes him over.

After a few moments, pushing the makeshift blindfold up onto his forehead, Jared retreats a little way then looks up at Jensen. Then, very deliberately, he sticks out a pointed pink tongue and licks up a little trace of spunk from the corner of his mouth.

Jensen rips the sleep mask off the rest of the way and, God help him, he will never be able to look at one of the damn things again without getting a hard-on. Then he’s pulling Jared to his feet and kissing him, chasing the taste of himself in the taller man’s mouth and trying to say everything he can with his body, because the words he wants to scream out loud right now would definitely get him fired.  
  
When they finally pull apart, Jared’s smiling.

“What about you?” Jensen asks in an undertone.  
  
Jared shakes his head, “I’m all good here. Got what I wanted making you fall apart.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
He whispers, “Good night Jensen.”

There’s not much more to be said at this point. Jensen desperately needs his bunk before morning service starts, and he reckons there’s only so much playing with fire you can get away with during the course of one shift. If Jared says he’s happy, Jensen will take his word for it. He’s still curious about the man’s dick though.

“Good night Jared.”

When Jensen gets back to crew quarters, Misha is half-awake, half-asleep, half-heartedly waiting up for him.  
  
Jensen hears a snooze-filled grumble of, “You are so telling me what the hell just happened in the morning.”

“Good night Mish.”

~~~  
  
Shortly before landing, Jensen’s making his final rounds. He’s just about been managing to look Jared in the face as he goes about his duties, and no one else seems any the wiser about what passed between them. Well, except Misha, who had demanded an explanation. But he’s not done anything more than throw a couple of approving glances in Jared’s direction. Even so, Jensen can’t wait for his land leave to begin.

When Jensen reaches his seat, Jared looks up at him and smiles.

“I know you don’t normally except tips in this job, but I thought maybe there was something I _could_ persuade you to accept…”  
  
He’s holding out a business card. Jensen takes it and reads the name of Jared’s company, his several million phone numbers and his e-mail address. On the back, he’s scrawled the name of one of the most expensive hotels in Austin, a time, and the words “Bring your friend?”  
  
Jensen smiles down at him.  
  
“It’s a date.” He says.  
  
FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> My three words or phrases were:  
> \- sponge  
> \- lemon-scented wetwipe  
> \- disposable plastic sandwich bag
> 
> Comments, concrit and kudos are love :D
> 
> And a P.S. for anyone reading this who might be waiting for me to update Who Is Right and Who Is Dead - it is basically finished, I'm just waiting for some final, final feedback but I might just go ahead and POST IT ANYWAY because I'm reckless like that. Hopefully, I'll get to that sometime this week.


End file.
